What if?
by Nikki
Summary: What if things were different in Phantom of the Opera? What if Erik were a normal looking guy? What if Christine weren't so happy go lucky? What if Raoul was not loaded and was a regular college student? What if this were set in 2000? Would anything be di
1.

Legal mumbo jumbo: Gaston Leroux owns all of the characters from "The Phantom of the Opera". I did change some of the names to more American sounding names, because it takes place in the states. I'm not making any moola off of it. Trust me, I don't deserve to. It's my first fan fiction ever and I don't know whether or not it's good or not. Reviews are greatly appreciated. If you think it's good or bad, don't hesitate to tell me. Be cruel if it's necessary. Enjoy my story.   
  
  
What if?  
  
Chapter One: It Begins  
  
Christine sat in the crowded room looking around. Hundreds to thousands of girls were crowded into the theater lobby, as well as a huge line that lead out the double doors. She sat in the hard uncomfortable blue plastic chair, nervously fiddling with the end of the light blue sun dress. She looked around and sat back further into the chair. She was still amazed that she was auditioning for "Jekyll and Hyde". Everyone around her was singing scales or singing the song that they were auditioning for. Christine was seated next to the secretary's desk. When one arrived at the theater, you were to give your resume and head shot to the secretary and wait to be called. She looked down on each resume as they dropped next to her. Most of them had either a bachlorette, major, or doctorate in musical performance. Christine had just graduated from high school five months ago and college wasn't on her priority list. Most of them had extensive experience, where she once again had slim to none. She put her face in her hands and groaned, "I am so screwed."  
  
She pulled her hands away from her face and reached down by her side to pick up the sheet music. She looked over the song that she was going to auditioned with and sighed. It was "How Could I Ever Know?" from The Secret Garden. It had been one of her favorite songs from the first time she had heard it. She had cried hysterically the first time she heard it. Well, actually, she cried during the entire musical. She hummed the song absently as she slouched back into the chair again. A woman with brown hair pilled on top of her head, looked down at Christine and gave her a look between an ignorant smirk and a glare. She lowered her eyebrows in confusion and looked at the floor. She snorted and left. Was singing really this cut throat? I let my head fall against the wall and closed her eyes. **Please let this go alright.**  
  
"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked.   
  
She opened her eyes and saw a slender tall girl with blonde hair. Christine glanced over at the chair and saw that I had most of the sheet music strewn across it. She picked it up and organized it, saying that it wasn't. She sighed and plopped down in the chair. "Hi! I'm Meagan,"she said extending her hand towards her.   
  
"Hi, I'm Christine,"she said shaking her hand.   
  
"So, what are you auditioning for?" she asked.   
  
"Chorus. You?"  
  
"Emma Carew," she said, shaking her head.   
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.   
  
"I'm not sure that I want to do this. I'm not really into the darker musicals. Plus, I was considering auditioning for Lucy,"she said sadly.   
  
"Well, why don't you?" she suggested.   
  
"She's a prostitute."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, I've never played the 'bad girl' in a play and I guess I don't want to start now," she said with a shrug and making quotations with her fingers when she said bad girl. She nodded, showing that she understood. "Well, just because your character is this way, it doesn't mean that they were necessarily type-casting," I explained.   
  
"True. I don't know. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I guess I'll surprise myself," she said between giggles.   
  
She felt her initial nervousness fading away.   
  
"Christine Dane?"  
  
She looked up and saw a short blonde permed secretary standing at the doorway of the auditorium. She stood up and gave Meagan a nervous glance.   
  
"Go get 'um kid. Don't show them that you're scared. They eat fear up like cookies," Meagan whispered to her.   
  
Christine smiled and nodded in thanks to her. She picked up the sheet music and followed the secretary into the auditorium.   
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
The dark haired figure put his hand on his temples and let out an exasperated groan. This wasn't going over well with him. He went over to the wine upholstered chair next to the other man. He pushed his mid ear length black hair behind his ears. He slouched into a chair and put his feet up on the chair in front of him. The man was dressed in a white dress shirt, black pants, and a black leather jacket. He was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties and had an impeccable sense of style. He carried a powerful air and he was somewhat arrogant. He had a slender figure and was rather well built. He was tall, standing at six feet tall. All around he was wasn't a bad looking man. Most would call him handsome. There was one difference he had though; his left eye was a sapphire blue and the other was a silver color, almost invisible with the pupil always dilated. He pulled the sunglasses down from where they were resting in his head holding his hair back partially. He sprawled his arms across the back of a few chairs and gave another annoyed sigh.   
  
"How much longer?" he asked in an aggravated voice.   
  
"Another two hours," the other man answered. After another expected sigh of annoyance he sat up and said,"You really are the most impatient man."  
  
"Well, the all...how should I word this?...oh yes...they suck,"he stated simply.   
  
"Always looking for that one perfect voice aren't you?" he said taking off his glasses and rubbing them against his blue silk shirt.  
  
"Always," he said with chuckle. "What can I say? I'm a firm believer in musical talent being a virtue that lies amongst at least one of these girls. It seems to elude every single one of them. Not a talented one in the whole three hours we've been sitting here."  
  
"There have been a few ones that stuck out though," he pointed out.   
  
"Sure. It's called all noise, not music. There's a difference, believe it or not." He sighed. "Why don't we just grab any thirteen girls and call it a day, Rob," he suggested.   
  
"We can't do that Erik. We have to listen to them all," he concluded, putting his glasses back on.   
  
"All right," Erik said, leaning back further into the chair. This really was the worst part of casting. "I should have gone into acting,"Erik muttered. He had the singing abilities, that much was apparent. He could probably act. Yet, he always kept music sacred to himself. He didn't do it for material gain, but because he loved music.   
  
The door closed bringing him out of his present train of thought. He looked up to see a girl with shoulder blade length coffee colored curls. She was wearing a knee length light blue sun dress with black leather knee high boots. She looked over at Erik and looked away. She was trying not to show her fear or nervousness. She made her way up to the stage and stood in the center of the stage. Robert sat up and looked at Erik. Erik shook his head and said, "No. It's your turn to do the talking."  
  
"Alright," he muttered. He turned his attention to the stage and said, "Please state your name and experience."  
  
"Hi,"she started."my name is Christine Dane. I'm 19 years old and I have pretty limited experience."  
  
"Great," Erik whispered to himself more than anyone else. "Just great."  
  
"Alright," Robert told her with a kind voice, giving Erik a warning glance. "And what piece will you be performing for us, Miss Dane?"  
  
"'How Could I Ever Know?' from 'The Secret Garden'," she said raising her voice to reach the two men.   
  
"Well, at least she has taste," Erik whispered.   
  
"Shush,"Robert spat. Erik shrugged nonchalantly and straightened up a little bit. Robert nodded to the pianist to start.   
  
The piano started and Christine straightened her poise and opened her mouth. Erik nearly fell out of his chair when the first few bars started. Her voice was what he had been looking for. He sat up and leaned on the back of the chair in front of him. He listened to her tone and pitch. Near perfection. Her voice was obviously ill-trained or not trained at all. He sat back and closed his eyes, listening to her sweet, gentle voice. The song ended far too soon. He was jerked back into reality by Robert's voice yelling to her that she would receive a phone call within the week regarding the job. Erik looked at Erik and was surprised that he had remained unaffected. Erik looked back at the stage where Christine had been standing. She had left and was on her way out of the door. Erik took the application from Robert and looked it over. Little to no experience and no mention of ever having had a voice lesson.   
  
Hmm, Erik mused. With a good teacher and extensive training, she could go very far on the stage. He sat back further in the chair and put his chin in his hands. He was not going to be a happy guy for the next few hours.   
  
  
To be continued...  



	2. Chapter 2: Girls Night Out!

  
Chapter 2: Girls Night Out!  
  
  
Robert rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the inevitable headache. He picked up a dozen applications and started to look over them. This was going to be a long day and Erik was getting very irritable. Erik picked up a stack of papers and started shifted through them, tossing application after application carelessly on the table. Three quarters through the pile, Erik stopped and pulled an application out of the pile, looking over it slowly.   
  
"What do you think?" he asked, putting the application on top of the one that he was looking over. Robert straightened his poise and looked over the application, lowering his glasses slightly.   
  
After a few moments, he looked up at Erik, let out a small laugh, held up the applications, and said, "You're not serious are you?"  
  
Erik's eyes dimmed slightly showing Robert that he was serious. "Serious as a heart attack," he replied in a low voice.   
  
Robert stuttered for a few seconds and fell silent, thinking of how to word what he wanted to say.   
  
"Erik, she's 19. If she's in the chorus, she would have to play a prostitute. She's still a child. I don't think that people would take too well to having a child playing a prostitute. Plus, look at this." He held up the application. "She has no listed formal training and she doesn't have any experience. "  
  
"And who are we to stop her from gaining experience?"  
  
Rob groaned at Erik's persistency. He looked at Erik warily and said, "Okay, how about we put her in the 'maybe' pile?" Before he could answer, Rob handed him another huge stack of applications and said,"Here, go through these and tell me what is what."  
  
Erik's jaw set in anger and he started to flex his fist in and out, making fist after fist. Erik never was one for patience and he tended to get angry quite easily. Erik sat back further in the chair, taking approximately thirty seconds to look on all of the other applications. After five minutes, he finished the pile and reached across the table to pick up the "maybe" file. He shuffled through the pile and eventually came to the application he was looking for. He pulled it out and looked over it again.   
  
Her name was Christine. She was 19 years old, live in New York on her own, had no remote family, and was trying to make it as an actress apparently. His mind started to cloud up. New York City wasn't exactly the best or safest place for a teenager to be living in alone. Erik looked at the application in his hand blindly.  
  
"You wanna grab lunch?" Rob's voice came through Erik's thoughts. Erik looked up at Robert, confused.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Lunch? Want to go get lunch?"  
  
Erik nodded and said,"No, go without me." He turned his attention back to the paper.   
  
"You want me to bring you back anything?"  
  
"No, thanks," Erik said in an annoyed voice.   
  
Robert put his head up defensively and said, "Okay, okay, just asking."  
  
Erik didn't look up or say anything. He just kept looking down at the application. Robert looked at him hopelessly, put his long gray trenchcoat on, and left. Erik reached across the table and picked up a notepad. He pulled the pen out from behind his ear and wrote down all of her contact information. After he was finished writing everything down, Erik picked up the application and put it in the "definitely" pile. He had a few favors he was owed and now was a perfect time to use them. He would take care of everything.   
  
"No,"Erik muttered. "She's in."  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
Christine looked down at the sea of papers in front of her and let her head hang down slightly. College applications. Everybody eventually had to fill them out, she kept telling herself.  
  
"New York University? Bernard University? Boricua College? Columbia University?" she muttered as she flipped through each application. Christine had been a wonderful student, received really good grades, and scored a 1,400 on the SAT's. She was set. She could be a doctor, a lawyer, a stock broker, but none of it really interested her. She only wanted to sing. Yet, there was the practical side that said, "What if it doesn't pan out? Then where are you?"  
  
Christine decided to try for one serious major and use music as her minor. She decided that if music didn't work out, she would be a doctor. She was certainly smart enough to be a doctor and she couldn't sing forever. That way if music didn't work out at all, as she suspected, she would be a doctor. Then, if health didn't work out, there would be music. She knew that she'd be alright.  
  
"Then again..." she muttered aloud. She looked down at her clothes and bit her lips. She wasn't exactly doctor material. She was wearing olive green baggy army print pants, a white spaghetti strapped tank top that said, "It's a small world, so you've got to use your arms a lot" in black writing, and a pair of black Doc Marten boots.   
  
After filling out most of the applications, there came a loud knock at the door.  
  
"What the..." she muttered as she made her way to the door. Peeking out the peephole at the top of the door, she saw Meg standing there clutching a pile of videos.  
  
"Meggie," she muttered, with a giggle as she opened the door.   
  
"Hello! I come baring..."she said dramatically, as she held the videos above her head. "Chick flicks!"  
  
Christine started laughing and said,"Okay, what is it today?"  
  
"Let's see...I got 'A Room with a View' which is too cute! Ummm..'Waking the Dead', and in case we got too bummed afterwards, I got..." She stopped, trying to make a deafening pause. Christine laughed and grabbed the video from her grasp.   
  
She started laughing hysterically after she opened the case. "You got...'Basket Case'?' she said, trying to catch her breath as she talked in between laughs.  
  
" Yup," she replied. "I thought that if we're going to be watching some movies that we'll most likely end up crying over, I might as well grab the funniest horror movie ever made."  
  
"Okay," she said, taking the movies and leading Meg inside. "Which one do you want to watch first?"  
  
"A Room with a View," she answered immediately.   
  
"Whatever," she answered, taking the video from her and taking it out of it's case.   
  
"Come on, sweeetie, haven't you ever seen it?"  
  
"Nope," she uttered while putting it in the vcr, making a note to herself to get her dd player out of storage.   
  
"Are you kidding me?!?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ohhhhh, it's so...tasty," Meg said, licking her lips.   
  
"Really?" she she said curiously.   
  
"Oh yeah! I mean, Rupert Graves and Julian Sands in the bare. Daniel Day-Lewis pretending to be a prissy frilly fru-fru boy. It's everything a girl wants. Cute boys, romantic plot, and it takes place in England and Italy. I'm surprised that you haven't read the book already?"  
  
"I actually read it in high school. It was pretty goo, but I didn't think to see the movie." She explained as she plopped herself on the couch next to her.   
  
An hour and a half later, Christine was still giggling. She didn't think that it would get as graphic as it did. Meggie, however, was blushing and the expression on her face, made her laugh harder.   
  
"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Christine said, trying to lighten up the mood.   
  
"Okay," Meg said slowly. "Whatever, let's just put the next movie in."  
  
She picked up "Waking the Dead" and started it. Within the time the movie started and the movie ended, Meg and Christine were both crying and were both rather freaked out. The movie was about a man, Fielding, who wanted to be the president and his girlfriend, Sarah, who was a revolutionist in the 70's. Sarah died in a car explosion and later Fielding had a chance to run for congress, Sarah came back to haunt him to the point where he thought he saw her and could talk to her. It was depressing as well as somewhat haunting at the same time.   
  
"Uh...Chrissy, I think it's time for a laugh. That was kind of...disturbing", Meg said steadily.   
  
"Yeah, let's watch 'A Room with A View' again,' she joked. Meg looked at her, obviously not quite getting her joke. "Alright, let's watch the other one," Christine said, as she got off the couch and switched cassettes. Within twenty minutes, they were both laughing about the idiotic plot of the movie, but Christine was still somewhat apprehensive. Not that she'd show it to Meg. Meg looked at the clock after it ended and sat up slowly, stretching her arms over her head.  
  
Christine's eyes widened all of a sudden. Meg looked at her with concern. "What is it, Chrissy?"  
  
"Meg, do you know what today is?"  
  
"The third," she guessed. Christine shook her head and made a look on her face that said, "Come on. Think!" Soon enough, Meg realized.   
  
"Oh crap! Call backs are today! Oh, damn it! See ya later hon," Meg said quickly, grabbing her duffle bag and running out of the apartment, without so much as a glance back.  
  
"Okay," Christine muttered. She went back to the table and tried to focus on filling out more college applications. As she started to fill out more applications, she started to sing a little bit.   
  
Now when the rain falls,   
It's heavy and gray.  
It tumbles and pitches through space.  
I can remember when rain was soft and  
You to kiss the rain from my face.   
Now when the rain falls, it runs from it's touch.   
With you wind was silk on my skin.   
People in love, walk inside the wind.   
Where nothing can hurt you, it holds you too close,  
But now I'm outside looking in.  
  
One day, all I was circled about you,   
Now when I move on without you,   
Nothing on Earth is the same.   
  
Do you remember the sweep of the rain?  
The sound of it's drumming the sky?  
People in love, walk inside that song,  
But now when I listen, the melody's changed.   
The rain only whispers good bye.   
I don't want to cry when I think of you,   
But now when the rain falls, I do.   
  
Almost as if one cue, the cordless phone let out a high pitched shriek, making Christine jump. She stood up slowly and looked at the phone nervously. Picking up the phone, she looked at it nervously, and pushed in the little black button that said, "Talk". Her heart doubled it's pace and she began to feel a little queasy. Her hand shook a bit as she put the receiver up to her ear.  
  
"Hello?"

  



	3. Chapter 3: Streaks

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah. I don't own anyone from Phantom of the Opera. They belong to Gaston Leroux. :) Okay, if this starts looking like characters who aren't from the book just start popping up, here's kind of who's who, if you are really that interested:  
  
Christine- hmmm....  
Erik- :)  
Robert- Managers  
Megan-Meg Giry  
Colette de Napoli- Carlotta  
Bryce Spencer: Piangi  
  
  
Chapter 3: Streaks  
  
"New York University? Damn equity! Columbia University? No experience," Christine mocked as she read over the applications that had been returned. The phone call she had earlier a few weeks ago had been a false call. Later on the next week they called to lay on the usual "You are very talented and you have a very nice voice" crap and then they do the whole "But, we've decided to go another way" stuff. A week late, huh? Now, that's punctuality, Christine thought sarcastically. She flipped through the acceptance letters from the colleges and moaned. Sure, she had been accepted to some of the best ivy league schools in New York, but she hadn't been accepted for Jekyll and Hyde, so it wasn't interesting to her anymore.  
  
Putting the New York University, Columbia University, Fordham University and Barnard College letters aside, she went to her closet to change. Pulling out a pair of light and dark blue army print pants, a black leather belt with silver belt loops, a white shirt with the phrase, "If Barbie is so popular then why do you have to buy her friends?" across the front of it, a calf high black leather trenchcoat and her trademark favorite pair of black Doc Martens. She ripped the clothes off the hangers, snuggled into them and threw up her very curly hair into a loose upturned ponytail. She walked over to the small table near the door, grabbed her car keys, locked the door to her studio, and walked to the garage. Clicking the alarm off, she opened up the door to her hunter green Explorer and hopped in.   
  
She turned on the engine, carelessly buckled up, and looked at the clock. The green letters informed her that it was 7:46 p.m.  
  
"Damn it! Meg's gonna kill me," she muttered under her breath as she fully started the car. Once she was out of the parking garage, she turned on the radio and flipped her cd player on. She smiled in satisfaction as the first few electronic whines of "How Soon is Now?" by the Smiths came on. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of the car impatiently, Christine asked herself, and not for the first time, why the Hell did she bring her car to New York was about as unbreakable as the oatmeal cookies her grandmother used to send her when she was a little girl.   
  
Christine's eyes scanned the next street for the Starbuck's Meg had told her to meet her at.   
  
"Great," she said aloud. "There are 3 million Starbucks in New York. How am I going to find just one within a store's distance apart?"  
  
Seeing the electric white and green sign, she quickly jerked the car into the next lane, cutting off three cars, that all in turn honked and yelled obscenities. Christine could honestly care less. Next was the ordeal of a parking place, letting out a relieved sigh when she saw a parking garage. Once she was parked, she quickly made her way across the street to the cafe. Once she was inside, she spotted Meg at one of the tables, waving at her. Christine held up a finger and mouthed out "in a minute." A few seconds later, Meg was standing next to her.   
  
"Meg, you just lost our table," Christine complained.   
  
"That's alright. I planned a few things anyway,"Meg informed her with a sly grin.   
  
"What?" she persisted.   
  
"You'll see. Just get your coffee," she said, pointing to the waiting cashier who was tapping her long hot pink nails against the top of the cash register impatiently.   
  
Christine walked up to the register and said, "Hi. I'd like one grande double iced mocha with two shots of caramel syrup and..." She stopped and looked at Meg. "Caf or decaf?"  
  
"Caffeine."  
  
"Okay. With caffeine and that outta do it." When she finished with her order, she pulled out her debit card.   
  
"Christine, just out of all curiosity, considering the fact that you intend to go to school, are 19 years old, have a studio and a car, and yet you don't have a job? How the Hell can you afford to live in New York?"  
  
"Oh, well, you see, my grandparents invested in the stock market and their stocks did really well and they each set bought a $25,000 savings bond for me. In other words, they were loaded. When they died, they left the money to my dad and then when my dad died I inherited the lot of it, plus with what he left me. Money isn't an issue and it probably won't be for a long time," she explained while using the ATM. Finishing typing in her pin code and the amount, she added, "Plus, when I was back in Boston I had a job at an arts and craft store. Embarrassing, huh?"  
  
"A job is a job," Meg replied, taking a sip of her own coffee.   
  
"I suppose. Speaking of jobs, how are rehearsals going?" As Christine had suspected early on, Meg got the part of Emma.   
  
"Pretty good. We got fitted for our wigs today and mine are pretty ugly. The dresses are pretty bad too. Then there's always Colette..." Meg stopped at the name and cringed. Colette de Napoli was the woman who was playing Lucy and apparently from what Meg had told her she was a diva with a capital D. Her love interest, the dual personality, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, was being played by a man named Bryce Spencer who, from what Meg had said, was not only her love interest on stage.   
  
"Ignore her. Come on, she's just getting on your case because you are probably a better singer than her."  
  
"Christine, a cat being stuck in a blender sounds better." Meg's face was so earnest that Christine couldn't help but laugh.   
  
"My God Meg, you really are a drama queen." She reached over and grabbed a java jacket. They both walked out to the Explorer. After the car had long started, she looked at Meg curiously.   
  
"Where are we going now?' she asked, looking left and right.   
  
"Go back to the studio," Meg instructed. She nodded and turned left. Once they reached the studio, Meg reached into her backpack and pulled out a small paper bag.   
  
"Okay, promise me that you won't hate me. It will just be for fun. You don't have to do it."  
  
"Well...what's in the bag?"  
  
Meg pulled out two medium sized boxes. Grabbing the box from her, Christine looked at the box, then at Meg, and then back at the box.   
  
"Streaks?" She looked back at her. "Red no less."  
  
"Yes, well, I bought blue streaks for me."  
  
"You want me to streak my hair with red?" she asked looking at Meg incredulously.   
  
"Oh come on. I think that it would look cool," Meg pushed.   
  
Christine snatched up one of her medium tinted brown curls and looked at it doubtfully. "I don't know, Meg."  
  
"You need to do something with your hair. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love your hair and it's great, but its not your style. Your clothes are not equal with your hair. If your gonna dress hard ass you may as well make your hair make you look like a hard ass." Meg pointed to Christine's outfit.   
  
Glancing down briefly, Christine shrugged and asked,"What?"  
  
"Okay, how about this: if you don't like it, I'll pay to have it dyed back to the color it is now. Pleaaassseeee", Meg half whined/half begged.   
  
Christine dropped the curl and let out sigh that could have only been classified as either a sigh of resignation or one of pleading. Blowing the curl out of her face, she nodded and said,"Fine, but if I look like crap afterwards, I'll kill you."  
  
Meg smiled and jumped up and down in excitement. "It'll look gorgeous. Trust me, you'll love it! Just love it!"  
  
Christine reached behind her head and pulled out the ponytail holder out of her hair and muttered,'You better be right," while running her fingers through her hair. Meg grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the lid, and walked over to Christine, almost looking comical with the menacing look she was trying to pull off.   
  
"Let's get this show on the road."  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"What the Hell are you talking about?!? I talked with Brian and he gave me the get go with it," Erik shouted.   
  
Robert, however, remained unaffected by Erik's show of anger. He had known Erik far too long to primarily know that it was basically all talk.   
  
"Erik, I couldn't. You know that. She's not in the Equity," Robert rationed.   
  
"For God's sake, Robert, it was an open call,"Erik argued. "That means, as you so perfectly put it at press, "All are invited to audition."'  
  
"Yes, but you know that Equity performers make them priority cases."  
  
"Oh, and talent doesn't matter?" he inquired.   
  
"It does, but what about training?"  
  
Erik remained silent, folding his arms and pushing the chair back to put his legs on the table and cross his ankles. He knew that it was in vain to fight Robert when he had made a valid point because on the very rare occasions when Robert was either correct or had a point, he tended to gloat for weeks on end from it. Robert leaned back in the red leather chair and said,"I'm really am truly sorry, Erik, but I did what the union would want me to do."  
  
"So it's a sense of duty that makes you toss perfectly capable performers over your shoulders?" Erik replied icily.   
  
"What is your obsession with this girl's voice? God, do you know her? What is so amazing about this girl's voice that would make you want to go against the union?"  
  
He shook his head that he didn't know and shrugged. "I'm not obsessed, just impressed. There is a subtle difference between the two."  
  
"Alright," Robert sighed. Glancing up at the clock, he reached over and grabbed his briefcase and started stuffing the papers from the desk unceremoniously into it. Snapping it shut, he stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "It's 9:30, Erik. We should probably get out of here."  
  
"No, I'm going to stay here for a little while longer and work. I won't have to stay as long tomorrow," he muttered, taking his legs off the table and reaching across to grab a pen. Robert shrugged and reached into a desk drawer, pulling out a key. He tossed it on the desk in front of Erik.   
  
"If you stay after 11:00 without it, you'll be locked in,"Robert explained. Erik reached across the table, pocketing the key.   
  
"Good night, Erik"  
  
"'Night, Rob."  
  
Long after he had left, Erik stood up and walked over to the file cabinet. It was completely beyond him as to why the company insisted on keeping all headshots, resumes, and applications of every person that had auditioned within the last six months. Swings was the only answer he could come up with. After a long, fruitless search, he was finally rewarded with her application. Pushing the papers aside, he picked up her headshot. She certainly was a pretty little thing and that was always helpful in musical theater. Not that it was Erik in particular who was looking at who could be the next fresh face on Broadway, but Broadway's freshest voice. However, upon looking down at the picture again, he decided that the most beautiful and most prominent feature had to be her eyes. They weren't too large and they weren't too small, but just about right. The application read that they were blue green. No matter where he moved, her eyes seemed to be watching him.   
  
Erik, against his better and usually more sensible side, found himself slipping the picture into his briefcase. Looking at the mess he had created on the desk, he sighed and silently cursed the secretaries for not keeping the files in some semblance of organization. Ruffling through the files, he decided to follow the old saying "If you want something done, you have to do it yourself." Walking back over to the file cabinet, he opened up the drawer, pulling out as many files as he could carry.   
  
After two more trips, hundreds of files laid in stacks on the desk, next to him, and in the chair Robert had been sitting in. Looking around himself, he muttered, "They don't pay me enough for all I do."  
  
Not that he was lacking in money: quite the contrary. Ever since he was legally old enough to work, he did. College had been simple enough. Not the great challenge that it was worked up to be, but it had proven necessary. He attended Carnegie Mellon University and majored in musical performance, mastering in the piano, violin, and vocal performance, as well as getting his minor in arts and science. He graduated when he was 21, being the youngest in his class to do so and with honors. As much as he loved music, he loved everything else that was artistic just as equally. He was an artist in every sense of the word. Many of his classmates had always talked about how quiet he was or how he could go into medicine or architecture and were all quite baffled when he moved to New York to join a casting company, occasionally producing on the side.   
  
Finishing his task, he looked up to see the clock ticking the seconds away until it was 12:31 a.m. After putting the files back, he stretched his muscles and decided to go for a walk around the theater. Maybe spend a little time thinking about something that wasn't work related .  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Okay and rinse," Meg commanded, shoving Christine's head back under the faucet. Christine spluttered something and blindly reached for her root beer scented "So-duh" shampoo. Finally knocking it into the tub, she unscrewed the top open and started to rinse the dark purple solution out. Meg's blue streaks had finished way before hers because her hair was blonde and easier to dye. Christine wasn't sure how Meg was going to look with blue streaks, but she actually pulled it off pretty well. Next came the towel that Meg wrapped her hair up in. She stood up slowly and made her way over to the long mirror. Slowly pulling the towel off, she reached over for her bottle of "Bed Head' hair gel and hair pick, combing out all of the twisted up curls. Quickly adding the gel in, she slowly turned to look at her reflection. She let out a gasp of surprise and started to bounce her hair up and down with her fingers. It didn't look half bad. Not bad at all. Meg came over and put her hand between Christine shoulder blades.   
  
"There now you see, it's not that bad. It looks great."  
  
The hazelnut curls had a few richly colored dark wine curls scattered in various places, but the two colors blended quite well.  
  
"This is actually pretty bitchin'! I thought is was gonna suck, but it looks really good. Wow! This is really cool," she exclaimed happily.   
  
"Now for the real fun," Meg said enthusastically.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
